Saved by the Bell
by squintessential
Summary: Describes the adventures of some not-so-ordinary high school students in 1st-century Galilee. Join your favorite gospel characters as they face off against zombie turtles, standardized tests, and the sinister machinations of the Student Council.
1. Prologue

_Unfortunately, I can't claim as much originality for this story as I would like to. Somewhat to my distress, I have discovered that at least two other writers here have already written stories about Jesus in high school. If you enjoy this story, then you may want to check out _Judea High School: The Judas Chronicles_ by TrenchcoatsAreSexy and _The Way of the Lord_ by StarXEnoch—both of which are well-written and interesting in different ways._

* * *

><p>Preface<p>

Early in July of 2011, an American fan fiction writer made an amazing discovery: a lost gospel, written by an unknown hand, describing the high school career of Jesus of Nazareth. The manuscript represents a momentous leap forward in biblical scholarship, preserving a text of which, until now, not so much as a fragment has come down to us. Indeed, the gospel seems to have been systematically suppressed by early church authorities, for no reference to it occurs in the writings of the church fathers, who do not even mention it in their condemnations of heretical works.

Rather ominously, this pattern of suppression appears to have continued within the modern academic community. The vast majority of biblical scholars have not even mentioned the manuscript. Those who have mentioned it have dismissed it with such nitpicky arguments as "Radiocarbon dating indicates that this manuscript is only 10 days old" and "This is written in modern English and contains the word 'mofo'".

What is it about this gospel that is so threatening to both the early church and modern scholars alike that the former does not mention it at all and the latter declare it a hoax? The manuscript's discoverer has decided that evaluation of the manuscript's authenticity is too important to be left in the hands of ivory-tower academics who have spent their lives doing nothing but studying ancient manuscripts. Hence, he has decided to share this exciting discovery with researchers the world over by posting it on FanFiction,net.

Here at last is a gripping account of one of the least-documented periods in Christ's life—high school!

* * *

><p>Prologue<p>

In a small Nazorean suburb, a young girl stood outside her house, scanning the road anxiously. She broke into a hopeful smile as she saw two boys about her age approaching down the sidewalk.

"Jesus!" the girl shouted, running toward them. "You're good with animals, right? I have to show you something!"

"Just a minute," said Jesus, who was supporting the other boy on his shoulder. "Lazarus tripped and sprained his ankle. I'm helping him get back into your house."

The girl rolled her eyes. "He just scraped his knees. He's fine!"

"I can taste blood," Lazarus whimpered between coughs. "Guys, I'm scared. I think I'm bleeding internally."

"He always does this to get attention," the girl said, tugging at Jesus' hand. "You know that. Now, please, Jesus, _come on_!"

Jesus turned to Lazarus. "Are you okay going the rest of the way by yourself?"

"I … I think I can make it from here," he replied.

"Okay, Martha, I'm coming," Jesus said, acquiescing to the girl's tugs.

He followed Martha into her back yard. There Martha's twin sister, Mary, stood beneath one of the house's windows, holding a small, feathery lump in her hands.

"Is it still alive?" asked Martha.

Mary shook her head. She burst into tears when she saw Jesus standing beside Martha. "Jesus, if you had gotten here sooner, this bird wouldn't have died!"

"We don't know that for sure, Mary," Martha said gently, putting a hand on Mary's shoulder. "Maybe the bird's wounds were hopeless."

"Waaaaaaahhhh!" Mary sobbed.

"Crap. I'm not very good at this, am I?" Martha said, turning to Jesus.

Jesus stepped forward, lifting Mary's chin with his hand.

"I know things like this are sad," he said. "But don't worry. It's all part of our Father's plan. Believe me, not even a single bird falls to the ground without a reason."

"I know that," Mary sniffed, "but why did it have to be _this_ bird? Couldn't God have made his plan so that someone else's pet bird died?"

"_Pet_ bird?" said Martha. "Mary, you found this bird just fifteen minutes ago."

"So? I can make it my pet if I—"

"Could I see the bird for a moment?" asked Jesus.

Mary hesitated for a moment before transferring the tiny corpse to Jesus' palms.

"Can you two keep a secret?"

Martha and Mary stared blankly at Jesus for a moment, then slowly nodded their heads.

"Promise?" he said.

They nodded again.

"Okay, then."

A combination of wonder and joy filled Mary's tear-streaked face as chirping began to emanate from her next-door neighbor's hands. Both girls gasped as the bird flew away.

"You remember what you said, right? You won't tell anyone?"

Martha nodded.

"Mommy, mommy!" Mary shouted, running into her house through the back door. "Guess what Jesus can do!"

"Do you want me to break her legs?" asked Martha.

Jesus sighed. "No, it's fine. As long as Mary's the one spreading the news, I'm not too worried about people believing it. But Martha," he said, staring directly into the girl's eyes, "you can't tell anyone about this, okay?"

Martha stared back nervously. "O—okay," she said.

* * *

><p>AN: This prologue is loosely based on a legend that Jesus resurrected a dead bird as a child. (According to a different version of the legend, Jesus molded a bird from clay and brought it to life.) The legend appears in some gospels that didn't make it into the canonical Bible and also in the Quran.


	2. The Transfer Student

Chapter 1 – The Transfer Student

"Mary!" Martha said, shaking her sister by the shoulder. "Mary, wake up!"

"No," Mary mumbled, rolling over in her sleep. "No, I couldn't possibly rub all your geese for you…"

"Damn it, Mary!" Martha shouted. "Just because we live across the street from school doesn't mean you can sleep as late as you want!" She grabbed Mary by the shoulders and hauled her up into a sitting position. "_Wake up!_"

Mary rubbed her eyes. "What time is it?" she murmured.

"7:10. We're going to be late for school!"

Yawning, Mary got out of bed and began slipping into her uniform. Martha watched her sister from the doorway with her hands on her hips.

"Mary, I still don't understand why you wear a school uniform."

"Because I'm going to school."

"But our school doesn't have a dress code!"

Mary paused in the middle of adjusting her necktie. "Oh," she said. "I was wondering why no one ever got in trouble."

Martha's hands clenched and unclenched a number of times. Very slowly and deliberately, she turned around and walked to the kitchen to prepare breakfast for herself and her siblings.

Still rubbing her eyes, Mary passed Lazarus on her way to the bathroom. He was mumbling nervously and glancing at his arm.

"Mary, how does my arm look?" Lazarus demanded, shoving his forearm into Mary's face.

Mary gazed down at the appendage.

"It looks pretty normal to me," she said.

"Are you sure?"

"Uh … I think so."

Lazarus let out a sigh of relief and leaned back against the doorframe. "For a moment there, I thought I might have leprosy."

Mary started to walk around him, then let out a yelp of surprise as he grabbed her by the front of her uniform. "Wait! You said it looks normal, right?"

"Yeah."

"That's exactly how it's supposed to look during the incubation period! Damn it, I'm going to the hospital after school today."

Mary cocked her head to the side. "Didn't you say they had a restraining order on you?"

Lazarus slapped his forehead. "That's right; I forgot," he said. Suddenly his eyes went wide. "Oh God. Don't tell me I have Alzheimer's too!"

As Lazarus headed, whimpering, to the kitchen, Mary turned sinkward and started brushing her teeth.

"Mary, are you done in there?" Martha demanded, appearing at the bathroom doorway. "We have to leave."

Martha sighed. Thus far, her strategies for getting her family up earlier had been largely unsuccessful. Most recently, she had tried setting everyone's alarm clocks forward by ten minutes, with the result that everyone now waited ten minutes longer after the alarm before getting up.

At last Mary emerged from the bathroom. Shoving a pop-tart into Mary's mouth, Martha yanked her toward the front door where Lazarus waited, leafing through his well-worn medical pocketbook. Mary turned and shouted a muffled goodbye to her parents as the three siblings headed out into the morning sunshine.

As usual, Martha arrived at her first-period classroom thirty minutes early. She flipped through her Greek flash cards until the bell rang.

"Class, we have a new student," Malpanta* Rachel said, gesturing toward the boy who stood in front of the blackboard. He was wearing black jeans and a shirt with the words _Smash the SystemTM_ printed on it. "His name is Simon bar-Alpheus."**

This Simon was apparently in all the honors classes, because Martha had to listen to the same introduction in every class up to and including fourth period, during which she was seated next to him. When the bell rang for lunchtime, he turned to her as she rose from her seat.

"Hey, uh, could you show me where I can buy some lunch?"

"Er, I'm kind of running behind schedule, but sure," Martha said, gesturing for him to follow her.

"Behind schedule?" said Simon. "It's lunchtime."

"The Debate Club meets during lunchtime today," Martha replied. "I'm the president."

"So are you just going to eat after school or something?" Simon asked, following her out into the hallway.

"No," said Martha. "That's when the Swim Team meets. I'm captain. Can't miss it."

"Your workload sounds … mentally unhealthy," said Simon.

Others had told Martha the same thing many times before. But the tiny psychiatrist inside her left thumb told her otherwise, and she preferred to trust the experts.

The pair shielded their eyes from the sun as they emerged into the quad. Before heading off to Debate Club, Martha pointed Simon toward the vending window on the side of the school building. Lazarus and Mary stood in line there, along with their friend Jesus.

Jesus smiled at the transfer student as he took his place in line. "Hey, are you new here? I don't think I've seen you before."

"Yeah, I'm a transfer student. My name's Simon."

"I'm Jesus," said Jesus.

"Hi!" Mary said, holding out her hand. "I'm … Mary," she added, after a somewhat worrisome pause.

"Hey, are you guys going to buy something or what?" demanded the student employee behind the window. "You're holding up the line!"

"Sorry, Judas," said Jesus. "I'll have a calzone, please."

"Do you have anything that doesn't contain imported ingredients?" Simon asked when his turn came. "I don't eat anything produced through Roman imperialism."

Judas sighed. "I'll see what we have. Let's see … Here's some 100 percent Galilean goat cheese—"

"Oh, I'm also vegan."

"Here's some packaging material," Judas said, extending some strips of cardboard and bubble wrap through the window.

"Never mind," muttered Simon.

"Is that bubble wrap?" Mary exclaimed, skipping over to the window. "How much is it?"

"Uh, that'll be one hundred twenty denarii—"*** Judas began.

"Judas," Jesus said sternly.

"Sorry, I mean twelve quadrantes—"***

"Judas."

"Okay, fine. It's on the house," Judas muttered sulkily, handing Mary a square of bubble wrap.

"Hey Lazarus!" another student called over the sound of popping bubbles. The others turned to see John and his brother James running toward the vending window. "Did you do the chemistry homework for Malpanta Rachel's class? Me and James need to copy it."

"Sorry, John," said Lazarus. "I didn't have time. I was at the hospital for ten hours last night."

Jesus and Simon turned toward Lazarus with a look of concern.

"What was wrong?" asked Jesus.

"They said they didn't find anything wrong," Lazarus replied.

"Ah," Jesus said, in a not-entirely-surprised voice. "Wait. Then what were you doing there for ten hours?"

"Trying to convince them to let me in. Apparently the doctors had told the security guards to pepper-spray me on sight. As if that wouldn't exacerbate all my conditions even further—"

"Well, this is great," James muttered.

"You could always ask Martha if she'd let you copy her chemistry homework," said Mary.

"Martha's in the _honors_ class, stupid," said John.

Mary considered this briefly. "Well, then her answers should be even better, shouldn't they?"

Jesus turned back to Simon as he, Mary, and Lazarus headed toward the shaded bench where they usually ate lunch. "Hey, want to join us?"

Simon wasn't sure that he did. But thus far, more appealing options had not presented themselves.

"Sure," he said, following the others over to the bench.

_Oh well,_ he thought, as he sat down next to Lazarus. _At least that Jesus guy's normal._

* * *

><p>* <em>Malpanta<em> means "female teacher" in Aramaic; the masculine form is _malpana_. Aramaic was the language spoken by the Jews of Jesus' time.

** This is Simon the Zealot, one of the Twelve Apostles. The word "bar" means "son of", so the name given in this story translates as "Simon, son of Alpheus". The Bible doesn't actually identify Simon the Zealot's father. "Alpheus" was the name of the father of the Apostle James the Less. However, acording to _The Golden Legend_, a collection of legends compiled by the medieval writer Jacobus Voragine, Simon and James the Less were brothers. (The James in this story is not James the Less but the Apostle James the Greater, brother of the Apostle John.)

*** The _denarius_ (plural _denarii_) and _quadrans_ (plural _quadrantes_) were Roman coins.


	3. Peter

Chapter 2 – Peter

"This is boring," James muttered, watching the lure blink at the end of his IXOYE-12 Ultimax Sonar Fishing Rod. "We never catch anything."

"Maybe that has something to do with the fact that we're fishing in an inflatable pool," Martha said, glancing up from her history textbook.

"I told you, Martha," said Andrew. "Our club doesn't have enough money to afford a fishing trip."

"Well, we _would_ have had enough money if you people hadn't insisted on spending it all on nanotech-powered fishing rods."

John suppressed a snicker. "'Nanotech-powered fishing rods'? Are they even making those anymore?"

"You know, Martha," said the Fishing Club president, a broad-shouldered, stocky boy named Simon bar-Jonah, "I don't get why you attend our meetings if you hate this club so much."

"I told you," said Martha. "I need to show the college admissions committees that I'm well-rounded."

"Just send them a photo of yourself," suggested Simon.

"Omygoddon'thurtme," he squealed as Martha stood up.

The heads of the Fishing Club members turned at the sound of footsteps. It was Mary and Jesus.

"This is the Fishing Club, right?" Mary asked, looking at the fishing poles.

"Nah, it's the Archery Club," Simon replied sardonically.

"Really?" Mary giggled. "You realize those are fishing poles, right?"

Martha lifted her face from her palm. "You know, Mary, you're really slow," she said.

"No, I'm not. I have a seven-minute mile time."

Martha suppressed a twitch. "So, what's up?"

"Oh, I was just thinking of joining a club," said Mary. "Jesus said he'd join with me. Anyway, archery sounds fun."

"It's fishing, not archery," Martha reminded her.

"That's okay," said Mary. "Either one's fine with me."

"Mary, have you ever actually gone fishing in your life?"

Jesus intervened. "Come on, Martha. What's the big deal? Just let Mary try it out."

"Fine. Whatever," Martha said, hunching back over her textbook.

Simon wasn't entirely sure what was going on. On the plus side, this meant that he was on familiar ground.

"Uh … I guess I should welcome you to the Fishing Club, then," he said. "My name's Simon."

"Simon." Mary frowned. "This is confusing. There are too many Simons for me to keep track of. Can your name be Peter instead?"

Simon blinked. "What?"

"Can your name be Peter instead of Simon?"

Simon blinked again.

"Uh … yeah, I guess."

And so, from that day on, his name was Peter.


	4. An Accident

Chapter 3 – An Accident

"So, caught anything yet?" asked Judas.

Judas and another student stood beside the inflatable pool, surveying the club that Jesus and Mary had joined three weeks ago.

"Dude, you're comedic genius," muttered Peter.

"Hey Judas. Who's your friend?" asked Mary.

"This is Thomas," Judas replied. "He said he wouldn't believe me about this club until he saw it."

Judas turned to Thomas with a grin. "Well, it looks like you owe me fifty quadrantes."

"Fifty?" said Thomas. "We said five."

"No, I distinctly remember us saying fifty—"

"Judas."

"Damn it, Jesus, you weren't even there!"

"Hey, I just thought of something," said Mary.

"Congratulations," muttered Peter. "I always knew you could do it."

"Thanks!" said Mary. "Anyway, I think I left my umbrella in the chemistry lab."

"Why did you bring your umbrella?" Andrew asked, peering up at the cloudless sky.

"Because I like it," Mary replied.

"… Ah."

"Anyway, does anyone know whether the lab's open right now?" Mary asked, glancing around the circle.

"Probably is," said John. "I always see Malpanta Rachel go in there when I leave her chemistry class at lunchtime."

"Okay," Mary said, getting to her feet. "I'm going to get it."

"Right now?" said John. "But she could be in the middle of … dissecting frogs or whatever it is people do in chemistry."

But Mary had already disappeared into the school building.

Two minutes passed before the Fishing Club members realized that they had let Mary head off toward a possibly unattended chemistry lab.

"RUN!" Peter shouted, dropping his fishing rod and pelting toward the campus gate.

"Malpana Ariel!" Andrew shouted, hurrying over to the nearest faculty member. "Malpana Ariel! We need to evacuate the area!"

Jesus stood up. "I'm going in after her."

"No, Jesus!" Martha shouted, grabbing his hand.

"Trust me, Martha," Jesus replied, as the emergency alarm began sounding. "It'll be okay."

Pulling away from her grasp, he slipped past the confused students who had started pouring from the building and vanished into the darkness of the hallways.

* * *

><p>Sweat beaded on Malpanta Rachel's forehead as she hunched over a black lab desk, eyeing the pink fluid that slowly dripped from her pipette into a beaker. Inside the beaker, liquid swirled and changed color, shifting from a blood red to a slightly brownish green.<p>

Rachel had once been employed at Ptolemais University, Phoenicia's premiere research university. Ah, good old PU, home of the Fighting Skunks. The official explanation for her dismissal was "unauthorized and dangerous conduct", but she was pretty sure that the department chair was just getting back at her for blowing up the lab. Now, after five years of high school teaching, Rachel had decided that she preferred things this way. Despite the lack of funding, it was better experimenting on her own, with no deadlines to meet, no bosses to please, and none of those inane "safety regulations" to find a loophole in.

She was close now. After years of painstaking research, she was about to develop the first sample of Reptile-Enlargement Hormone. Granted, the precise areas of application for this invention were a bit unclear as of yet. But there would be plenty of time to think about that later. Just a few more hours of work, and—

The shriek of a siren wrenched Rachel from her concentration. It was the evacuation alarm. A fire? Now?

"Why now?" she moaned.

Despite the temptation to stay and finish her work, she knew better. If it were a real fire, she couldn't let herself be killed. Not now, after coming so far. Sudden terror engulfed her at the thought that she might die on the brink of victory, letting the next great step in the human quest for knowledge slip through her fingers. Leaving the beaker on the desk, she hurried out into the hallway.

* * *

><p>"Hello?" Mary called over the siren, pushing open the laboratory door. "Is anyone there? Malpanta Rachel?"<p>

Mary could hear the siren. However, she couldn't remember whether this was the alarm for evacuating the building or the alarm for hiding under a desk and staying put. Thus, she had decided to compromise by continuing to walk around inside the building.

"Hello?" she called again, stepping into the room.

The lab looked empty. As Mary scanned it a second time, she noticed a beaker sitting on a desk. There was some strange-colored liquid inside. Mary picked up the beaker and examined it for a few moments. Shrugging, she set it down and turned around to leave. The next moment, she heard a clinking sound, followed by the patter of droplets hitting the floor. Looking over her shoulder, she saw the beaker lying on its side, its contents spreading across the desk.

"Ohnoohnoohnoohno!" Mary exclaimed, looking around wildly for a solution.

She ran over to the sink at the back of the room, grabbed a handful of paper towels, ran back, and mopped frantically at the spilled liquid. Tossing the towels in the trash can, she ran to the storage cabinet and threw it open, desperately scanning the bottled powders and liquids for a way to reproduce the spilled concoction.

Mary stopped and took a deep breath. She had to get a hold of herself. This was a time for critical thinking. She looked over her shoulder, at the small amount of liquid still remaining in the beaker. It was a sort of greenish-brown. Thinking back to art class, Mary remembered that blue and yellow made green. Grabbing a bottle of yellow liquid, a bottle of brown liquid, and a container of blue powder from the cabinet, she put some of each into the glass container and mixed them with the pipette that lay nearby. The resulting liquid somewhat resembled the original, but she seemed to remember that the original had looked a bit darker. Hurrying back over to the cabinet, she found a phial of black liquid and added a few drops to the mixture.

Letting out a sight of relief, she put the chemicals back in the cabinet.

"Mary!" Jesus shouted, throwing open the door. "Did you touch anything?"

"… No," said Mary.

"Are you sure?"

"… Yes."

Jesus eyed her suspiciously for a moment, then sighed. "Okay, I need to get you out of here. The evacuation alarm is going off, you know."

* * *

><p>At last the bell rang, bringing sixth period to a close. Moments later, the usual flood of students emerged onto the quad, heading either toward the campus gate or toward the parking lot.<p>

Exiting the building near the tail end of the crowd, Jesus stopped and stood outside the doors, waiting for the janitors to get Mary's head unglued from her desk. Leaning back against the bike cage, he nodded at acquaintances as they passed, unaware of the eyes that watched him from above.

"What do you know about him?" the Student Body President asked, peering down through the wall-length second-story window on the school's south wing.

"His name's Jesus bar-Joseph," said Treasurer Leah. "He's in the sophomore class."

"I've heard of him," Vice President Dinah said, joining the President and the Treasurer at the window. "He's the cousin of that freak who dropped out of school to go meditate in the desert."

"He's up to something," the President muttered. "He ran back into the building when he was supposed to be evacuating."

At the other end of the room, Secretary Nicodemus glanced up from the meeting minutes that he had been editing. "Wait. Wasn't he trying to stop that girl before she blew something up?" he asked.

"The whole situation feels sketchy, though," said Leah.

Down below, Mary had emerged from the school building, rubbing her forehead. With a wave toward the track, where Martha stood with the other Track and Field members, she and Jesus headed toward the campus gate.

"He's up to something," the President said, turning away from the window. "Keep an eye on him. All of you."

Dinah and Leah nodded.

"Yes, President Caiaphas," said Dinah.


	5. The Green Revolution

Chapter 4 – The Green Revolution

"Hey, Rachel," the building superintendent said, sticking his head into the chem lab. "I'm closing up the floor. Be sure to lock the door again on your way out."

"Sure thing," Rachel replied, her eyes fixed on the now-clear liquid in her flask.

The hours had passed more quickly than Rachel had expected. It was almost seven-thirty now, and she had only just completed the preparations to test the Reptile-Enlargement Hormone.

This time the test subject was a turtle. Lizards were much easier to acquire in Galilee, but Rachel refused to get another lizard. Not yet. It was too soon.

_Poor Zuzzy,_ Rachel thought, gazing down into the terrarium. Zuzzy: her faithful companion for so many experiments. At least it had been a noble death, in the service of science. She had made sure to give his remains—as much of them as she had managed to scrape off the walls—a proper burial.

Would lizards share in the resurrection, she wondered? She took comfort in the thought. After all, if the Pharisees were right, then even the chemistry department chair at Ptolemaic University would share in the resurrection. And if he qualified, she didn't see why Zuzzy shouldn't.

If only he were with her today to witness her moment of triumph.

_This is for you, Zuzzy,_ Rachel thought as she readied the syringe. She gave the turtle a shot of the hormone and then went to get some coffee.

On the way back from the teacher's lounge, Rachel heard a crash, like the sound of a window being broken. She froze, mug in hand, listening for more. The noise sounded like it had come from the direction of her lab. What was it? A burglar? A vandal? Another narrow-minded technophobic activist smashing her death ray prototype?

Well, it wouldn't do any good to stand around, she decided, casting about for a course of action. Finally, her courage fortified by a swig of black coffee and a crowbar that she had found in a nearby closet, Rachel tiptoed around the corner that concealed the laboratory door.

The door was open, as she had left it. She quickly moved so that she was standing next to the doorway with her back to the wall, her eyes turned toward the opening. To be honest, she wasn't sure what the benefit of this maneuver was supposed to be. Despite being pressed flat against the wall, she still stood out enough so that anyone leaving the lab would notice her immediately. And since her body was facing away from the doorway, she couldn't actually see into the lab, regardless of how far she turned her eyes. Nonetheless, she had watched enough spy movies to know that this was the standard procedure in such situations.

Rachel whispered a brief prayer, took a deep breath, repositioned her hands on the crowbar, counted to three, and then, having run out of excuses for delaying, spun around to face the doorway, brandishing her crowbar.

The laboratory was empty. No window was broken. No computers were stolen. The only thing out of the ordinary was the terrarium, the shards of which now glistened on the tile floor.

But the turtle—where was he?

Then Rachel heard the scream. It was a horrible, agonized scream, accompanied by a large amount of bumping and crashing. Rachel had heard such a scream from only one person before—namely herself, upon receiving an invitation to her cousin Sara's annual family reunion. She could only listen, petrified, as the scream twisted upward from the floor beneath her feet and into the darkening sky. It seemed like it would never end.

And then it did. Clutching the crowbar even tighter now, Rachel headed slowly toward the stairwell.

As she stepped out onto the first floor, she saw the building superintendent lying face-down on the floor, covered in tiny scratches and cuts. None of them looked very deep, and he didn't even appear to have lost much blood. But whatever had happened had knocked him out stone-cold.

Rachel took out her cell phone and began dialing the police, but stopped as glimpsed movement out of the corner of her eye.

The superintendent's body—it was _changing_. Slowly, ever so slowly, it was shrinking and remolding itself. Finally Rachel put a hand to her mouth as she realized what it was molding itself _into_.

The crowbar clattered to the floor as she screamed.

* * *

><p>"Raisin bread! My favorite!" Mary exclaimed, peeking into her lunchbox.<p>

"Mary, you packed that lunch yourself," Martha pointed out.

"Hey, everyone, I want to know what you think," Mary said, glancing around at her lunchtime companions. She glimpsed the Fishing Club members sitting nearby and waved at them. "Hey, Peter, come over here and tell me what you think!"

"What is it?" Peter muttered, walking over to the bench.

"I've been practicing drawing for a while," said Mary, "and I was thinking of starting a webcomic about Moses in high school."

Peter and Judas shifted uncomfortably.

"Are you serious, Mary? You're just asking for controversy," said Judas.

"Controversy?"

"Yeah, think about it," said Peter. "I mean, the moment you give him a girlfriend, there'll be controversy."

"Fine," said Mary, "then I'll give him a boyfriend."

Lazarus was about to comment when Mary stood up and pointed toward the campus gate. "Look!" she said. "A turtle!"

The group turned to see a small green turtle that had apparently crawled under the gate.

"Watch out," Lazarus called, as Mary got to her feet. "It might have rabies."

"It's so cute," Mary said as she approached the turtle. "It looks just like our school mascot. Are you lost?" she asked, squatting next to the turtle. "Did you outrun your owner?"

Extending a forefinger, she moved it slowly toward the turtle until it hovered just in front of the creature's nose. The turtle lifted its head slightly, as if to sniff at Mary, and then lunged forward, sinking its beak into Mary's finger.

Mary screamed, shaking her finger in an attempt to dislodge the turtle. "Get it off! Get it off!" she cried as her companions came running.

"Told you," said Lazarus.

"Should we yank it off?" asked Judas.

"No, that might rip her skin off too," said Lazarus.

"Maybe we can paralyze it," Martha suggested.

"Okay," said Peter, "so we just need to find a way to get it to look at Martha—

"Omygoddon'thurtme," he said, curling into a fetal ball as Martha stepped toward him.

"Guys, this isn't the time," said Jesus.

"I'll do it!" James shouted, running over from where the Fishing Club had been sitting.

"Yeah!" John said, joining him. "Let's smash this mofo!"

James lifted up his foot and brought it down on the turtle's shell. Mary screamed.

"You're making it bite harder!" she shouted.

"No, wait, it's working," said John. "Stomp harder, bro!"

James slammed his heel down on the turtle a second time. Mary winced in anticipation, then opened her eyes as she felt the turtle's beak loosen its grip and fall to the ground.

"Are you okay?" Martha asked, inspecting Mary's swollen finger.

"We need to get her to the nurse's office," said Lazarus.

"Hey, that's enough!" Jesus said, as John raised his foot over the dazed reptile. "You don't have to kill it."

"Yeah right," said James. "We're gonna squash this little—_oh shit._"

Following James's gaze, the others turned toward the chain-link fence that separated the campus and the sidewalk. Instead of the usual concrete, they saw a mass of small, circular shells gathered just beyond the fence. Hundreds of beady black eyes watched the students silently from the sidewalk.

Very slowly, John pulled his foot back and set it down gently on the ground.

Then the turtles charged.


	6. Shell Shocked

Chapter 5 – Shell Shocked

"RUN!" Peter screamed.

All across the quad, students turned to stare at the advancing chelonian wave. Cries of "So cute!" turned to screams of agony as student after student collapsed under a flurry of slashing claws and slicing beaks even as they turned to run.

"How are there so many of them?" Martha demanded, looking back over her shoulder as she ran. "It doesn't make sense."

"What do you mean?" Jesus asked, as he helped along a sobbing Mary.

"That kind of turtle doesn't live around here," said Martha. "You can only get them as pets."

"Maybe it's an invasive species," suggested John. "I heard about invasive species on a science show last night."

"Wait. _You_ watched a science show?" said Andrew.

"Well, it was either that or studying."

The turtles were still close behind them, but they had almost reached the school building. Malpana Zachariah stood at the doors, urging them to run faster. Glancing behind them, they could see a wave of turtles spanning the width of the quad and swiftly moving to cover what remained of its length. They could already tell that they would be the last ones through those doors before the teacher closed them.

A few more seconds, and they were through. Zachariah slammed the doors shut and slid the deadlock into place, then closed his eyes at the screams of the students who reached the doors too late.

"Oh crap, am I having a heart attack?" Lazarus panted, grasping his chest. "I think I'm having a heart attack."

"Shut _up_, Lazarus," Martha snapped. She turned to Mary. "Are you okay?"

Trembling, Mary held up a red, impossibly swollen finger.

"My God," whispered Martha.

"Yes?" said Jesus.

"What?"

"Uh, nothing. Here, I'll take her to the nurse's office," Jesus said, helping Mary to her feet.

"I'm going too!" said Lazarus.

"Um, no you aren't," Martha replied, grabbing her brother by his shirt collar.

"Why not?" he protested.

"Because we want there to be medications left for other people," Martha hissed.

Meanwhile, Jesus and Mary had reached the nurse's office. Mary's pace had slowed during the trip to the office, especially while they were taking the stairs. By now she was leaning on Jesus' shoulder for support.

"What's going on out there?" the school nurse asked, turning from a window as they entered the room. "What _are_ those things?"

"I don't know," said Jesus. "Can you look at Mary's finger?"

The nurse turned to face Mary and clapped a hand to her mouth. By now, the girl was struggling to stand upright and appeared to have a slightly greenish complexion. "Mary, you look terrible!"

"That's mean," Mary whispered, before collapsing to the floor.

* * *

><p>The survivors—those who had been inside the building when the turtles appeared, and those who had been fortunate enough to make it inside—gathered in the assembly hall. There, amidst quiet sobbing, they watched the news reports streaming in about the turtle attacks were occurring across Galilee and Samaria. People were being urged to stay inside their houses until the Roman authorities could figure out how to deal with the situation.<p>

"Damn Romans," Simon muttered, slouching against the wall at the back of the room. "This is all their fault."

"How's Mary doing?" asked Judas.

"She's fainted," Jesus replied. "The nurse says that she's in shock and has a really bad infection where the turtle—"

"They're gone!" cried a girl's voice.

All eyes turned to the student who had just burst into the hall.

"The bodies are gone!" she shouted. "Look out the windows!"

Pushing and shoving, the students rushed out of the assembly hall. A glance through the hallway windows confirmed the report. Specks of blood were still visible, along with clothing in various stages of mutilation. But the corpses that had once littered the quad had vanished.

"Did they all get eaten?" Judas whispered, his breath clouding a windowpane.

"It doesn't make sense," said Martha. "Back when they were killing people, it didn't look like they were eating very much."

Suddenly Jesus stepped back from the window, his face paling. "I'm going to check on Mary. All of you, stay here!"

"Hey!" President Caiaphas shouted from nearby. "Who put you in charge?"

But Jesus was already hurrying through the door leading to the stairs.

* * *

><p>The turtle looked up from the nurse's lacerated body as the door opened.<p>

It threw itself at Jesus, who managed to close the door just in time. He heard a thud, followed by feverish scratching at the door.

* * *

><p>"They'll find a way in eventually," Caiaphas muttered as he walked down the hallway beside VP Dinah.<p>

"Are you sure?" Dinah asked, glancing out a window. "They don't look very intelligent. I mean, look, they didn't even spell 'Surrender' right."

"Bad news," Secretary Nicodemus said, running up. "They've been chewing away at the doorframe around the front doors ever since we got in here. Pretty soon they'll have a hole big enough to come in through."

"That does it," said Caiaphas. "We'll need something to defend ourselves with."

"I'll try to round up the Archery Club," said Martha, who was standing nearby.

"I'll get the pipe bombs out of my locker," said James.

"Too late!" Nicodemus shouted, pointing.

A handful of students had just rounded the corner at the other end of the hallway, screaming bloody murder. At least two dozen turtles followed behind them, leaping to snap at their swinging heels. One student, a girl whom Martha recognized from her Aramaic class, stumbled and fell beneath the horde, temporarily distracting it.

"Run!" said Caiaphas. "Get up the stairs!"

"What are you standing there for?" Dinah shouted as the students began backing toward the stairwell. "Run!"

At the other end of the hall, the turtles looked up from the fallen girl. One had started to creep toward the clot of students at the other end of the hall.

The next moments were a blur. The commotion had apparently attracted more turtles, for the hall was soon filled with deadly snapping mouths and scurrying claws. One of the turtles was ahead of the others and sank its beak into John's heel as he ran. He cursed and stumbled, but then knocked the turtle against the floor with his foot and sent it flying with a backward kick. Pushing and stumbling, the students ran up the stairwell and through the door to the second floor, slamming it shut and locking it behind them.

The last student through the door was Judas's friend Thomas. He let out a sigh of relief and leaned back against the door—then yelped and leapt away, clutching the newly-torn heel of his shoe. A turtle's tiny head protruded through the gap under the door, snapping furiously. They could hear claws scrabbling wildly on the wood paneling.

"Quick!" Caiaphas shouted. "We need to make a barricade!"

Under Caiaphas's direction, a team of five students dragged a huge metal file cabinet out of one of the classrooms and set it in front of the door. Then they stood back, listening as the barrier groaned and rattled under the turtles' onslaught. The monsters had made it through the door and were now pushing at the file cabinet that formed the students' last line of defense.

"It's … _moving_," breathed Dinah.

The cabinet was indeed moving. Ever so slowly, the turtles were pushing it away from the doorway. A tiny crack began to appear between the cabinet and the doorframe.

Lying flat on the floor, Martha peered through the gap, into the stairwell. More and more turtles were arriving, taking the stairs in bounds and hurling themselves against the barrier before setting to work pushing it. But amongst them, she also spied a pair of what looked like human arms covered with green plush fabric, which were helping the turtles to shove at the doorframe.

"No, it can't be," she whispered.

Grabbing a pointing-rod from the nearest classroom, she jammed it through the gap. The turtles immediately leapt at it, snapping it to splinters in their slicing mouths, but not before its tip had collided with one of the felt-covered arms.

"Ow!" said a familiar voice, slightly muffled by the plush head of Shelley the Turtle, the school's mascot.

"Peter! Is that you in a turtle costume?" Martha demanded, glaring through the gap.

"Uh, sorry, wrong guy," Peter called back. "I mean turtle," he added nervously, as the turtles turned to stare at him.

"Peter, why you—" Martha began.

"That's it," James said, advancing on the doorway with a crowbar from the janitors' closet. He glared down at the thrashing turtle head that now extended through the gap between cabinet and doorframe. "I'm gonna kill those little—"

"Wait!" shouted a voice from down the hall.

The students turned to see Jesus running toward them from the nurse's office. "Wait! Don't kill them!"

"Why?" James asked, his crowbar positioned over the snapping head.

"It might be someone!"

"'It might be someone'? What do you mean?"

Jesus took a breath. "The people who get bitten—they turn into turtles themselves. I was just in the nurse's office. Mary's turned into one of them!"

While some of the students went to work reinforcing the barrier, the others hurried over to the nurse's office. One of those hideous little heads protruded from beneath the door, thrashing and snapping. Through the window, they could see the nurse's bloody and now somewhat scaly-looking body lying face-down on the white floor.

"If I'm right," said Jesus, "pretty soon the nurse will become one of them too."

"That's the most ridiculous… Do you really expect us to believe that?" Thomas demanded.

"I believe him," Martha said quietly. "After what I've seen today, I think I'm willing to believe anything."

"Hey Martha," said Judas, "you're going to burst into flames in five seconds unless you write me a check for a million denarii."

"So what do we do now?" said Simon.

"We figure out how to administer this antidote," replied a dissheveled Malpana Rachel, stepping out of the chemistry lab.

* * *

><p>AN: It never fails. I get a hilarious idea for a chapter: Jesus and his friends must fight off a horde of zombie sheep (zombie sheep seem rather more appropriate than zombie turtles, given the setting). And the best part? I get to give the chapter the punny title "The Violence of the Lambs". Then I do a Google search and find that a New Zealand studio has recently made a film about zombie sheep called _Black Sheep: Violence of the Lambs_. WTF? What is this—divine vengeance for copyright infringement or something?

So ... yeah. It ended up being zombie turtles instead of zombie sheep.


	7. Blargh

Chapter 6 – In Which Jesus Saves His Classmates From Certain Turtlefication and John Says Something Intelligent

All eyes turned toward the drooping chemistry teacher as she emerged from the lab. Fishing a carton of syringes out of one of the bags beneath her eyes, she gave John and then Simon a shot.

"I managed to catch one of the turtles," she yawned. "I've developed an antidote, but it'll be a few days before the Roman authorities are prepared to spray the quarantine area. The amount that I've synthesized just now should be more than enough to cure all the turtles in the building, but we need to figure out some way to administer it."

"Put it in turtle food," suggested Andrew.

"We can't administer it through food. As far as I can tell, the turtles don't seem interested in eating at all. They don't even kill their victims; once the victim's down, they go for the next one. It's only a toxin in their saliva that knocks their victims out and makes them look dead. They just bite anything that moves."

"Uh … maybe we could give someone the antidote and then let the turtles bite him," said John.

Martha groaned. "Why do idiots congregate around me?"

"I don't know," Peter called from behind the barricade. "Solidarity?"

"Wait," Rachel murmured. "That actually might work." She turned to Thomas. "Well, you've been injected with the antidote. Are you willing to go out there and get bitten?"

John and Thomas shrank back as the students turned to face them.

"Thomas…" Caiaphas said slowly.

Thomas ran. Caiaphas and Treasurer Leah caught John as he turned to follow suit.

"No!" John screamed. "I don't want to die!"

"But then we'll all get torn to shreds by those turtles before they're cured," snapped Caiaphas. "What's better—one person dying or everyone dying?"

"I don't know!" said John. "Whichever one involves me not dying!"

Rachel sighed. "Like I said, the turtles don't bite to kill. And one whiff of the antidote knocks them out—at least the fully-transformed ones. So it wouldn't kill you. It would just hurt really, really bad."

"You selfish little—" Caiaphas began, throwing John to the ground.

"What about you?" John replied, glaring up at Caiaphas. "If you're so on-board with this plan, then why don't you take a shot of that antidote and walk out there yourself?"

"Yeah!" James said, helping John to his feet.

Caiaphas took a step back. "Hey, wait a minute—"

"I'll do it," said Jesus.

The students slowly turned to face Jesus.

"What?" said Caiaphas.

"I'll do it," Jesus repeated.

For a moment, there was silence. And then the students were thronging around Jesus, praising him, clapping him on the back, lifting him up on their shoulders to prevent his escape should he change his mind.

"He's a hero!" someone shouted.

"Uh, wait," Caiaphas said, watching as the crowd surrounded Jesus. "Maybe I could..."

"Nope. Too late," said Martha.

[Insert break here]

Three minutes later, Jesus stood in front of one of the barricades that the students had built in front of the doors leading to the stairwells. There were two stairwells, located on opposite sides of the building. No turtles threatened on this side.

"Okay," said Rachel, "we'll have only one shot at this. We need to remove this barricade as quietly as possible, so that the turtles don't—"

The teacher winced as a pair of chairs crashed to the floor a few feet away. She glared at James and John, who had now grabbed a desk and were swinging it back and forth in preparation for tossing.

"Are you two even listening to me?"

"Sorry," said James. "We like throwing things."

Martha prepared to punch James, then froze.

"Shhh! Do you hear it?" she whispered.

The crowd gathered around the barricade stopped to listen. The sound was unmistakable, rising up from below in the sudden silence: the scampering of countless tiny claws.

"Quick!" Rachel shouted. "Get this barricade out of the way!"

"Does that mean we can throw things again?" asked John.

"Yes!" Rachel screamed. "Just _move_!"

They moved. Desks and chairs and podia bounced down the hallway as students ran for cover. In less than a minute, the door to the stairwell stood unblocked. The scratching was closer now. Students shrank back as they heard sounds of claws and shells scraping and bumping on concrete steps.

"They're in the stairwell!" someone shouted. "Hurry!"

Jesus' hand trembled slightly as he grasped the doorknob. He hadn't felt this unprepared since his last standardized test. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and mumbled a brief prayer.

"Huh?" said Martha.

"Oh, nothing," Jesus said quickly. "Just talking to myself."

And then he stepped out into the stairwell, closing the door behind him.


	8. Club Officers

Chapter 7 – Club Officers

Martha crossed her arms. "Peter, I still can't believe what you did back there."

"Hey," Peter snapped, "what would _you_ have done if you were trapped in a school surrounded by zombie turtles?"

Martha sat blinking for a moment. She was about to open her mouth again when Jesus put a hand on her arm.

"Let's not fight," he said. "Just be glad that everyone's okay."

Three weeks had passed since Roman security forces arrived at the high school. They had found most of the students and teachers barricaded inside the main building, all hungry and smelly but also all alive and quite human. Fortunately, they arrived just in time to take Jesus to a hospital where his wounds could be properly treated. The doctors said he would be out soon.

Mary and Martha stayed in Jesus' hospital room after the other Fishing Club members, along with Lazarus and Judas, left for a coffee shop. Mary yawned and laid her head on Martha's shoulder. Martha sat silently for a few minutes, watching Jesus read through the messages written on the giant thank-you poster that the school had made for him.

"Hey Jesus," Martha said suddenly.

"Yeah?"

"Do you remember that time when you brought that bird back to life?"

Jesus glanced at the door to make sure that it was closed, then turned to Martha. "You haven't told anyone, right?"

Martha shook her head.

"What about Mary? Did she tell anyone after that day?"

Martha glanced down at the snoring girl whose head had slipped down into her lap.

"Mary? She doesn't even remember."

"Good," said Jesus. "We should try to talk about it as little as possible… But you had a question?"

"Well, I was just wondering… If you could bring that bird back to life, then couldn't you have cured the turtles without getting bitten all over?"

Jesus was silent for a while. "Yes, I could have," he finally said. "But it wouldn't have fit into the plan."

"The plan?" said Martha. "What plan?"

"I can't explain it all to you yet. You'll understand later. But remember this…" Jesus' face was suddenly very serious. He lifted himself up from the bed and fixed Martha's eyes with his own. "The rulers of this age, both seen and unseen, must not know who I am. Not yet. Do you understand?"

Martha blinked. "No."

"Good."

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Gaaaaahhh!" Martha shouted in frustration, grabbing and twisting at the nearest available twistable object, which happened to be Mary's hair.

"Ow! Martha, that hurts!"

"Why are you always so damn mysterious?" Martha demanded, leaping to her feet in a motion that sent Mary tumbling to the floor.

"You have to be patient, Martha. Trust me; it'll all make sense eventually. Now pick up Mary and make sure she didn't hit her head."

"Why?" muttered Martha. "It's not like anything vital would get damaged."

"Martha."

"Okay, fine," Martha said, helping Mary to her feet and then stomping toward the door.

"Bye Jesus!" Mary called as she followed Martha out of the room.

Jesus smiled and waved, then turned back to the poster.

* * *

><p>The Fishing Club members joined Mary, Judas, and Lazarus at their usual lunchtime bench to welcome Jesus back from the hospital.<p>

"It's great to have you back, man," James said, scooting over to make room between himself and Mary.

"Aw, now I'm blushing," Jesus said with a grin. "Thanks, everyone." He cleared his throat. "I've decided to start a club," he said, holding up a form. "It's a club to raise money to help rebuild areas that were hit hardest by the turtle attacks."

"Most of those areas are in Samaria," Andrew pointed out.

"That would be correct," said Jesus.

An awkward silence ensued among the assembled students, with the exception of Mary, who was busy humming a tune to see if she could get it stuck in her head.

Martha broke the silence. "I'll help out," she said.

Martha had never understood why everyone hated the Samaritans. Not that she was surprised, of course. Nazareth wasn't exactly the most progressive place around. Fortunately, Martha knew enough not to discriminate against people based on their background—unlike the ignorant, bigoted, livestock-humping hicks who infested so much of the town.

"Thanks, Martha. Anyone else? I need officers to make it an official club."

He pointed to a part of the form, which listed the positions of president, vice president, secretary, and treasurer.

"I'll be an officer!" Mary exclaimed.

Jesus smiled gently as he turned to Mary. "You know, Mary, I was thinking of creating a _special_ officer position just for you."

"Really?" said Mary.

"Yes. Er, anyone else?" Jesus asked in a somewhat desperate voice.

Judas peered at the form. "I'll be the treasurer."

Martha gazed at Judas from beneath drooping lids. "No offense, Judas, but I don't think that's the best idea."

"Why?" demanded Judas. "I really like money."

"Sorry, but I don't find that entirely reassuring."

Jesus sighed. "Let's not fight, okay? Judas, you can be the treasurer. Alright, we still need at least one more officer…" He cast a completely un-subtle subtle glance at Peter.

"Okay, fine," Peter muttered, "as long as I don't have to do anything."

"Vice president it is," Jesus said, adding Peter's name to the form. "Now we just need a meeting time…"

"Wait, we actually have to go to meetings?" said Peter.

"Any time between 3:57 and 4:02 on Thursday works for me," Martha said, eyeing her electronic planner.

"Guys!" Simon hissed, nudging Martha in the ribs. "Look!"

He pointed at Jesus.

"J—Jesus?" said Mary. "Is there something wrong with your face?"

Jesus was beginning to look angry.

Very slowly, those who were standing took a step back.

"Okay, okay, I get it!" said Peter. "Guys, I'm disbanding the Fishing Club as of now. From now on, Jesus' club can meet during this time."

And so the Fishing Club became the Post-Chelonian Recovery Fund. Mary said she liked the inflatable pool, so they kept it for club meetings.


	9. The Rulers

Chapter 8 – The Rulers

"'Post-Chelonian Recovery Fund'? 'Chief Executive Figurehead Mary'?" Caiaphas said, scanning the website of the new campus club. "Is this a joke?"

"No, President, it's a movement." Dinah opened the curtains on the Student Council room's wall-length window, revealing the crowd gathering below. It had been growing ever since lunch began. By now, it threatened to obstruct the doors into the school building.

The Fund's first fundraiser, a carwash in the school parking lot, had been a huge success. Most of the credit went to Martha, for spreading the word among the other clubs, and to Mary, for wearing a white t-shirt on the day of the event. The club had grown steadily over the following month and a half, inspiring sister organizations on campuses from Damascus to Beer-sheba.

"Everyone loves the work they do," said Dinah. "People are saying that Jesus bar-Joseph should be the next Student Body Pres—oop!" The VP slapped her hands over her mouth.

Caiaphas's face darkened. "He's trying to replace me."

Nicodemus glanced up from the meeting schedule that he had been writing on the dry-erase board. "Well, this is your senior ye—"

"He isn't like the others," Caiaphas said, staring down at the crowd. "He's actually a threat. He's the only other student who's actually electable."

"What about Martha?" asked Leah. "I mean, she's in every student organization except the live-action role-playing club. She's probably at least as well-known as Jesus is."

"Yes," said Caiaphas, "except that Jesus doesn't look like he's perpetually constipated. And how do you know that Martha isn't in the live-action role-playing club?"

"Uh … I just looked at their membership roster once. So I could make fun of them."

"Right…" Caiaphas said, raising an eyebrow. "Anyway, we have to do something. If we don't"—the President looked slowly around the room, fixing each of his fellow Council members with his gaze—"then I'm not the only one who might lose his position to one of those attention whores down there."

Dinah and Leah nodded grimly. Then Dinah lifted a finger.

"I have an idea…"

* * *

><p>"Hey Simon," Judas called as he handed Martha her change, "We've got a new brand of coffee that even you might be willing to buy. It's organically grown."<p>

"Is it fair trade?" asked Simon.

Judas sighed. "No."

"Alright!" Simon shouted sarcastically. "Now I can buy coffee harvested by de facto slaves who _weren't_ destroying the environment!"

After double-checking her change, Martha headed over to the bench, attempting to ignore the argument that was currently raging there. Apparently Thomas had concluded that all the supposed zombie-turtle sightings had actually been sightings of swamp gas. This hypothesis was encountering some incredulity from critics such as Simon, who was surprised to learn that he had been recently spent half a day as swamp gas.

"Jesus, isn't it?" a voice said, interrupting the argument.

The group turned to see Student Body President Caiaphas and VP Dinah approaching the bench.

"Those are some pretty impressive heroics you've been displaying," Caiaphas said cooly, looking down at Jesus. "Running in to stop that girl from blowing up the school… Letting yourself get bitten to cure the zombie turtles—"

"Swamp gas formations," Thomas corrected him.

"What?" said Caiaphas.

Back at the window, Judas slapped his forehead. "Dude, Thomas, if I have to choose between believing that Jesus was put in the hospital by zombie turtles and believing that he was put in the hospital by swamp gas, I think I'll go with the zombie turtles."

Thomas sighed. "Well, I don't know about you, Judas, but I'd rather stick within the realm of scientific possibility."

"Hey," Mary said, looking up at Caiaphas, "you're the Student Body President, right?"

"Uh. Yeah."

"So you know all the school rules, right?"

"I guess so…"

"Is it okay if I keep wearing this uniform even though there's no dress code? Martha keeps telling me it's okay, but I wanted to make sure."

Caiaphas felt himself rapidly losing his grip on the situation and strove to compensate. Suddenly Jesus felt himself yanked up from the bench as Caiaphas grabbed the collar of his shirt. James and John leapt to their feet.

"What the fuck?" said John.

"Language," said Jesus.

Caiaphas leaned forward and whispered in Jesus' ear. "Listen, Jesus, I know what you're up to. From now on, I'll be keeping my eyes on you. Got it?"

He waited for a moment, then released Jesus' shirt. "Come on, Dinah," he said, turning back to the school building.

"Hey!" Mary called after them. "You didn't answer my question!"

"Peter, they're gone," said Martha. "You can stop hiding now."

"I wasn't hiding," Peter snapped, as he peered up from behind the bench. "I was biding my time to strike."

Martha's brow furrowed as she stared after the pair of Student Councilmembers. "What was that all about?" she murmured.


	10. Little Augustus's

Chapter 9 – Little Augustus's

"Ohcrapohcrapohcrap," Martha muttered to herself as she opened the oven door to check the pizza.

It was Sunday. The Drama Club met on Monday, and she still needed to practice her lines. The day after that was the Swim Team meet, followed by her usual work at the homeless shelter. And, to top it all off, her parents were out of town for the weekend, so she had volunteered to host this weekend's Recovery Fund officer meeting. Why? Why did the universe have to lay such burdens upon her?

Peering through the doorway into the living room, she glared at Mary.

"Oh my God, Mary! Would you stop watching TV and help me get ready for the meeting?"

"Uh… can I wait just a little longer?" Mary asked, staring at the television set.

"No!"

"Okay," Mary said reluctantly.

Her eyes still glued to the screen, Mary got up from the couch and headed in the general direction of the kitchen. Martha grabbed her just in time to stop her from colliding with the wall.

"What should I do?" Mary asked, once she had arrived safely in the kitchen.

It occurred to Martha that she hadn't fully considered the answer to this question. Chopping stuff was definitely out of the question, as was anything involving the stove burners. Giving Mary the task of washing dishes was also a bit iffy, since there were a number of electrical appliances in the kitchen whose cords could reach to the sink. And Martha had already done a lot in the way of cleaning…

Martha sighed. "Never mind. You can go back to watching your all-important sitcom."

"It's an infomercial," said Mary.

"Whatever! Just get out of here!"

"Okay. Thanks!" Mary skipped back into the living room.

There was a knock at the door just as Martha took the pizza from the oven.

"Mary, get the door!"

"Okay!" came the gratingly cheerful reply.

Martha gritted her teeth. She had been having a very stressful day. Although the familiarity was comforting, it wasn't nearly enough to offset the irritation of knowing that someone else was enjoying life.

Well, at least she had the satisfaction of a job well done. She gazed down proudly at her first homemade pizza, still hot and bubbling from the oven. After hours spent shopping for ingredients, kneading homemade dough, cooking sauce, and grating cheese, she had produced a dinner that should satisfy everyone.

"Hey, Judas! Hey, Peter!" Mary said as she opened the door. She paused, peering over their shoulders. "Oh, look, there comes Jesus."

"Hey, everyone," Jesus said as he leaned in through the front door and waved at Martha. "What smells so good?"

"Homemade pizza," said Martha. "I thought I'd try a new recipe."

"Oh, Martha … you didn't have to do all that," Jesus said, with a slightly apologetic expression. "I went to Little Augustus's and got pizza for us before I came here." He stepped through the doorway, supporting a stack of pizza boxes with his right hand.

"Little Augustus's?" Judas exclaimed. "Alright!"

"Oh! My favorite!" said Mary.

"Hey Martha, where should I put these?" Jesus asked from behind the stack.

"Uh … on the counter, I guess," Martha replied, in a somewhat dazed voice.

Jesus walked over and set down the stack of pizzas, leaping away just before Judas and Peter pounced on it.

"Hey, where's Lazarus?" asked Jesus.

Martha stared back at him blankly for a few moments.

"Oh, right. The emergency room. Sorry, stupid question." Jesus turned to the other three officers, who were in the middle of gorging themselves on Little Augustus's pizza. "So, should we start the meeting?"

"So … good … Can't … stop…" Peter moaned as he packed another slice into his mouth.

Eventually Jesus managed to coax them over to the kitchen table to begin planning for the Recovery Fund's upcoming bake sale.

"Hey, Martha, we need you to take minutes," Peter called.

Martha walked silently over to the table and took out a notepad.

It was a short meeting, after which the officers kicked back and enjoyed the remainder of Little Augustus's. Jesus felt sorry for Martha, so he ate a piece of her pizza too.

* * *

><p>"Hey, Judas!"<p>

Judas looked up from the locker through which he had been frantically rifling.

"Yeah?" he said.

"Whatcha looking for?" Mary asked, peering over his shoulder.

"Uh, nothing."

"Oh. Okay."

Mary held out the blue notebook in which Judas recorded the Recovery Fund's finances. "Anyway, I found this on the floor after you left on Saturday."

Judas stared at the notebook for a moment before grabbing it.

"Thanks," he said quickly.

"So, uh, I don't know much about bookkeeping," Mary said as Judas turned back to his locker, "but I think you might have made a mistake in there."

Judas froze in the middle of closing his locker door. Slowly, he peered over his shoulder at Mary's smiling face.

"You … read it?" he asked softly.

"Just a little bit," said Mary. "But I saw a few places where the numbers didn't look like they added up."

For a moment, Judas couldn't speak. His mind seethed with questions (e.g. "You can add?"), but he held them back.

"Well, I'll take another look," he said, forcing a smile. "Thanks for letting me know."

"No problem," Mary replied, turning to leave. "See you later!"

Judas's hand shook as he slipped the notebook into his locker and closed the door. Mary didn't suspect anything, of course. But it was only a matter of time before she mentioned the numbers in some offhand comment to Martha. And Martha would want to check all the numbers three times over—twice with a calculator and then once by herself to make sure the calculator wasn't malfunctioning. He would have to do something. Quickly.


	11. Dinah's Plan

Chapter 10 – Dinah's Plan

"So," said Malpana Philo, "who can tell me the dative form of _logos_? And John, if you answer 'Monkey' again, I'm going to stab you."

At the back of the classroom, John snickered.

"No, seriously, I mean it," the teacher said, taking a sharpened kitchen knife from behind his back and setting it down on the podium in front of him.

"Oh," John said, lowering his hand. "Understood."

Judas felt a tap on his shoulder. Looking up from his textbook, he saw Dinah, the Student Body VP, holding a folded note toward him over her desk.

Giving her a puzzled look, he unfolded the note and read it:

_ Judas,_

_ The Student Council has something to discuss with you. Please meet us in Room 210 at lunch. Any questions will be answered then._

_ P.S.: We know about the vending window's financial records._

_ P.P.S.: This message will self-destruct in 10 seconds._

The members of Malpana Philo's second-period Greek class nearly jumped out of their seats as a small explosion rocked the classroom.

"Damn it, Mary!" the teacher shouted. "What did you do this time?"

"There is no Mary in this class," a student pointed out.

"Sorry," the teacher said sheepishly. "Habit."

His eyes darted around the room, quickly coming to rest on Judas's smoking desk.

"Mar— I mean, Judas, what on earth is going on?"

Before Judas could reply, Lazarus started coughing. Jesus, who was seated next to him, glanced over in concern as the coughs increased in violence.

"Are you okay?" Jesus asked during a brief lapse in the coughing.

Lazarus reached out a shaking hand.

"I think I'm having an asthma attack," Lazarus wheezed, squeezing Jesus' wrist. "It's the smo—"

The word "smoke" was cut off by as the coughing fit resumed. Without waiting another moment, Jesus leapt up from his seat and ran for the nurse's office.

He had almost made it to the stairwell when a door opened in the hallway in front of him. Caiaphas stepped out. Startled at first, the President quickly moved to block Jesus' path.

"Where are you going?" demanded Caiaphas.

"The nurse's office. Someone's having an asthma attack."

Caiaphas moved again as Jesus tried to walk around him.

"Do you have a hall pass?"

"What?"

"Do you have a hall pass? You can't be out here during class time without a hall pass."

"I told you, I have to get to the nurse's office! Lazarus needs medical attention!"

Caiaphas crossed his hands over his chest. "Rules are rules. If you don't show me a hall pass, then I can't let you by."

"Damn it!" Jesus shouted. "The rules were made for students, not students for the rules!"

The punch caught Caiaphas by surprise. Lifting his head from the floor, the President stared after Jesus as the latter disappeared through the door to the stairwell.

"So you want to make this personal, huh?" Caiaphas said, rubbing his jaw.

Two minutes later, Jesus arrived back at Malpana Philo's class with the school nurse. Lazarus was hunched over his desk, taking notes.

"Lazarus, are you okay?" Jesus demanded, hurrying over.

"Oh, actually it turns out that I just thought I had an asthma attack," Lazarus replied, looking up sheepishly from his notepad. "Sorry, false alarm."

Jesus suppressed a twitch. "I swear, Lazarus, one of these days—"

"Excuse me," said a voice from the hallway. "Is Jesus bar-Joseph in here?"

Jesus turned to see the principal standing in the doorway.

"Yes, I'm Jesus."

"Could you come to my office, please? Joseph bar-Caiaphas tells me that there's been an altercation between you two."

What looked like a mummy on crutches hobbled around from behind the doorframe. From under his forehead bandage, Caiaphas gave Jesus a little grin.

* * *

><p>"This is bullshit!" John shouted, punching the nearest wall.<p>

"I swear," said James, "the next time I see Caiaphas, I'm going to—"

"Calm down," said Martha. "There's no point in doing something stupid. Even the principal knows that Jesus didn't really deserve to get sent home; he was just following policy. Tomorrow Jesus will be back and we can just let this situation blow over."

"Here's your yogurt parfait," Dinah said, extending Martha's purchase through the vending window.

"Thanks," Martha said, then paused. "Wait. Doesn't Judas usually work here on Wednesdays?"

"He said he had something to take care of," said Dinah. "I'm filling in for him."

"Hmmm…" Martha murmured, as she walked toward the spot where the rest of the gang had gathered to elbow-drop Lazarus. It wasn't like Judas to miss a shift, especially now that he had persuaded the school to pay him on commission. What could have dragged him away?

Shrugging, she gave Lazarus a stomp and sat down to eat her yogurt.


	12. Scalp Saga

Chapter 11 – Scalp Saga

"Was the exploding message really necessary?" asked Nicodemus.

"It had to be destroyed," said Caiaphas. "We don't want to attract attention, do we?"

"I give up," Nicodemus muttered, sitting down to review the agenda for the next Student Council meeting.

Caiaphas turned back to Judas.

"I swear," said Judas, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Dinah has all the records she needs to prove it," said Caiaphas. "We know you've been stealing from the school's vending booth."

Judas burst into tears. "Okay! I admit it! Just don't get me expelled! Please, don't get me expelled!"

Caiaphas smiled. "We aren't planning to get you expelled," he said. "We have an offer for you."

Judas looked up. "An offer?"

"You're the treasurer for the Recovery Fund, aren't you?"

Judas nodded.

Caiaphas leaned in close to Judas's ear. "Help us, and no one will hear anything bad about you. How can we get Jesus bar-Joseph expelled?"

"Jesus?" Judas sat silently for a moment, then bowed his head. "I might know a way," he murmured.

* * *

><p>The expulsion hearing was held that Friday.<p>

"I'm not sure what's going on here," said Jesus. "But I didn't steal from the Fund's account. And I never threatened Judas."

Principal Eleazer smirked. He leaned back in his armchair, his eyes scanning the comic book tucked inside his charge sheet.

"Wow, manga writers have the worst handwriting ever. I can't even read it."

"Er, principal?" Vice Principal Hannah said, nudging the principal's shoulder. "Principal?"

"I guess it doesn't matter much, though. I mean, I just buy them for the pictures of schoolgirls, anyway."

"We were talking about the expulsion charges?" said Hannah.

"Oh, right," the principal said quickly, clearing his throat. He fixed Jesus with a serious expression. "Jesus bar-Joseph, what do you have to say for yourself?"

"I'm not sure what's going on here," Jesus repeated, "but I—"

"I don't want to hear it!" the principal said sternly, holding up his palm.

"Eleazer, you're doing it wrong," said Hannah. "Look, do you want me to take over from here?"

The principal shrugged. "Whatevs."

The vice principal turned to Jesus. "Jesus, you said that you didn't steal club funds, and that you didn't threaten Judas when he refused to go along with you. But we have four witnesses—all Student Council members, no less—who all corroborate Judas's story. Let's take this one step at a time. If you didn't steal the money, then do you have any idea who might have done so?"

Jesus turned to look at Judas, who sat across from him, staring down at his lap. Jesus turned back to the vice principal.

"No, ma'am," he said.

* * *

><p>Jesus got out of the hearing at around 5 in the evening. Fortunately, he lived right across the street from campus, so he didn't have to walk far. Setting his backpack down by the door, he went to his room and put in the disk for <em>Scalp Saga<em>, the new computer game that James had recommended to him. He had been stuck on the first level for weeks, but at least it was something to take his mind off of the day's events.

He had been playing for only 15 minutes when he heard a knock on the front door.

"Jesus? It's Mary and me."

"Come in," he called. "I'm in my room."

He glanced over his shoulder as his bedroom door creaked open. "I thought you had band practice."

"I'm skipping it," Martha replied, walking over to his side. "How are you doing?"

"I'm okay."

Mary raised an eyebrow. "Really? Judging from the way you're playing that game, it looks like you're upset."

Jesus looked back at the computer screen. Suddenly he realized that, for the first time, he was shooting the flesh-eating demon-lice instead of trying to resolve their differences peacefully. He had almost made it to level 10.

"Why did you do it, Jesus?" Martha asked.

"Do what?" Jesus asked, his eyes still on the computer screen.

"Why did you sign that paper saying that you were guilty?"

Jesus sighed and turned away from the computer, ignoring the tortured gasps as his character began suffocating on the Dandruff Deserts of Azarek.

"If I had fought the charges, it wouldn't have stopped me from getting expelled. They had hard evidence that someone had been stealing money from Recovery Fund. And Judas had the whole Student Council as witnesses for his side of the story."

"But everyone knows that you wouldn't—" Mary began.

"No," said Jesus. "You know, and Martha knows. But the principal has to make his decision based on school policy."

"But you should have at least fought it!" said Martha. "You should have at least let everyone know you're innocent. Right now, James, John, Peter, Andrew, Simon—they're all talking about what a horrible person you are, just because you signed that admission of guilt."

Jesus looked at Martha. "Suppose I had told them what you and I know happened. What do you think would have happened then? Like I said, it wouldn't have gotten Judas expelled instead of me. It would have just meant that he would spend the rest of high school surrounded by people who hate him."

Martha's reply was cut short by a rumbling noise. It sounded like thunder or an avalanche, but closer-sounding. Much closer, in fact. It lasted for only a moment. But then they heard another one, louder this time.

"An earthquake?" Martha exclaimed.

"Should we stop, drop, and roll?" asked Mary.

"No, Mary, that's for fires."

Jesus gripped Martha's shoulder. "Look!" he said, pointing out his bedroom window.

The north wing of the school building was starting to buckle. They could see a huge crack working its way across the wall.

By the time Jesus, Martha, and Mary made it across the street, the crack had widened to split the wall from top to bottom. Gathered on the edge of the quad, a combination of students, neighbors, and curious bystanders watched as the wall started to crumble outward.

"Do you see that?" Peter exclaimed, running up to where Jesus stood.

Peter had Simon and James and Thomas with him. And Judas. Jesus and Judas exchanged a somewhat awkward glance and then turned back to the building.

At that moment, something burst forth from the wall of the school building, showering the onlookers with debris. It was a reptilian head, as big as a man, with a darting, forked tongue and two round, black, staring eyes. The ground shook as the head hit the lawn below the building.

For a moment, the crowd watched silently as the legless monster slithered out of the hole in the wall, its coils filling the quad. Then the screaming started.

"It's a giant snake!" Mary exclaimed, pointing.

Staring straight at the scattering crowd, the serpent reared itself up and let out a thunderous hiss.

"Oh dear," Malpanta Rachel said, peeking through the hole in the north wing. "I guess I'm still not that good at eyeballing parts per million."


	13. A Harrowing Conclusion

Chapter 12 – A Harrowing Conclusion

"Mary, would you stop smiling? You're disturbing me."

"Sorry," Mary said, as she and Martha backed away from the quad.

The snake extended its head forward, toward the school's south wing. Its gaze moved slowly up the wall, finally coming to rest in front of the wall-length second-story window where four students stood frozen in fear.

Leah screamed as the snake darted forward. Then the window exploded inward, showering the room with flying glass.

Outside, the crowd watched as the snake drew back from the window, grasping a squirming shape in its jaws.

"Leah!" someone shouted from the crowd.

The snake swung back its head, releasing its victim. For a moment, Leah hung in the air, spinning from the torque of the swing. Then the snake opened its jaws impossibly wide, revealing a pair of sickle-like fangs, and swallowed the girl in one gulp. Hissing, the giant serpent began slowly slithering toward the part of the crowd that had not yet fled.

"Whoa, Thomas, look at all that swamp gas!" Simon exclaimed, pointing at the advancing reptile.

"Shut up and run!" Thomas shouted, turning to follow Peter's lead.

Martha tugged at Jesus' sleeve.

"Jesus, don't you think we should … run?"

Jesus pointed at the snake. "Look!"

As Martha turned back toward the quad, her eyes were drawn to a series of bulges high up in the serpent's throat. There, beneath the plate-like scales, she could make out what looked like writhing limbs.

"They're still alive," she murmured.

Then, without warning, the snake struck.

For some reason, Martha had thought that a giant snake would move more slowly than a normal-sized one. She was wrong. She had made it barely ten steps before the snake shredded through the chain-link fence between the quad and the sidewalk, its jaws wide and gaping.

Jesus and his two next-door neighbors looked behind them as they ran. The snake was not pursuing them. Most of its length still lay coiled on the quad, but its front portion was already speeding down the street, past (and over) swerving cars, away from the three of them but toward another pocket of students.

Suddenly a burst of machine-gun fire struck next to the serpent's head, knocking it to the side and sending fragments of metal and concrete raining down on fleeing pedestrians.

"What?" said Martha.

"What?" said Jesus.

"Sssss?" said the serpent, glaring upwards.

Peering over the rooftops, the onlookers could make out a fleet of Imperial airships, tiny in the distance but growing bigger by the moment. Another burst of ammunition came down, this time hitting the coils that still remained in the quad. The creature threw its jaws open hideously wide, hissing in rage. Then it swung its tail upward, striking at the airships as they closed in. One of them was sent careening sideways and barely managed to get itself under control.

The serpent lowered its head and sped toward a pocket of dazed bystanders. The bystanders scattered, but a moment later the serpent reared up again, holding yet another human shape in its jaws.

"Judas," murmured Jesus.

Now more than one of the airships was shooting, raining down bullets onto the monster's armor-like hide. The snake swung its tail again, barely missing one of the airships, which swerved to the side, cutting a trench through the asphalt with its artillery fire as it did so.

"What are they doing?" Jesus shouted. "There are people alive inside in the snake! And it's still got Judas in its mouth!"

Frantically, Jesus turned to Simon, who stood nearby. "Hey Simon!"

"Yeah?"

"You told me that you've had some experience with electronic, er, 'direct-action' activism, right?"

"I prefer the term 'cyberterrorism', but yeah. What about it?"

* * *

><p>Aboard the Imperial airship <em>Aeneas<em>, Centurion Titus Helividius Philippus watched the giant serpent twist and writhe below, clasping that hapless Jewish boy in its jaws.

"Sir!" exclaimed the airship pilot. "I'm detecting a number of human biosignals from inside the snake."

"Inside the snake?" the centurion exclaimed, looking over the pilot's shoulder. "_Inside_ the snake?"

The pilot raised an eyebrow. "Er, yes, sir. That's what I said."

"What you _said_?"

"Okay, Titus, now you're just being annoying."

The centurion peered at the control panel. The pilot was right. There were three—no, four—distinct human biosignals emanating from those bulges in the snake's throat. They were very much alive, and very much in the line of fire.

"Well, that's weird," the centurion said, stepping back.

"'That's weird'?" the pilot exclaimed. "Don't you have anything else to say?"

The centurion thought for a moment. "Oh, that's right," he said, turning to the crew. "Fire the missiles!"

"Um, sir," a crewman said, hunched over another control panel, "our weapons system seems to be experiencing some technical difficulties."

"Meh. We'll take care of it after we've fired the missiles."

"But, sir, I can't _fire_ the missiles!"

* * *

><p>"Well, that should keep those Roman bastards busy for a while," Simon said, lifting his fingers from his laptop's keyboard. He turned to Jesus, who was rummaging through some nearby rubble. "So, what's your plan?"<p>

"Wing it," Jesus replied.

Grabbing the best weapon he could find, he set off running toward the snake.

* * *

><p><em>This is it,<em> Judas thought to himself, squeezing his eyes shut. The serpent's jaws tightened around him, crushing one of his hands to his side. Whether by the snake's jaws or the Romans' bullets, he was about to die.

"Judas!"

Judas opened his eyes. Down below, amidst the rubble and wreckage, Jesus was running toward him.

"Jesus!" Judas shouted back. "What are you doing?"

The snake had seen Jesus too. Turning from the now-damaged airship, it fixed its gaze on the approaching student.

The snake wasn't sure why this human was running toward it with a plastic light saber, nor what the most appropriate reaction was under such circumstances. However, destroying things had worked pretty well thus far, so it decided to stick with the original game plan.

The monstrous black tail came crashing down, barely missing Jesus. The impact made him stumble, but he recovered and continued on, toward the spot where the snake's body reared up from the ground.

"Stop it, Jesus! You'll get killed!" Judas shouted, wincing as the snake's tail struck again, sending chips of sidewalk flying.

Judas opened his eyes again and saw Jesus still alive, leaping over twisted fenders and toppled streetlights as he approached.

"Why do you always do this?" Judas whispered, wiping his eyes with his free hand.

Irritated, the snake turned to face this new annoyance full-on, hissing menacingly. Throwing back its head, it swallowed Judas as it had Leah, and then hurled itself jaws-first at Jesus.

* * *

><p>"Well, that was weird," a crewman said, shaking his head. "Okay, we should have full functionality back now."<p>

"It's about time," the centurion said, getting up from the sofa in the back of the bridge. "Where was I? Oh, right. Fire the—"

"Wait!" shouted the pilot.

The centurion rolled his eyes. "What _now_, Flavius?"

"Look!" the pilot said, pointing out the window.

Down below, the serpent seemed to be having issues. Its mouth gaped open, but it was not biting at anything. It stood still, except for the convulsions that moved up the length of its body like waves. And then, without warning, it leaned forward and vomited a human shape onto the road.

* * *

><p>As dumbstruck citizens watched from a distance, the snake bowed its head to the ground before the boy it had vomited up.<p>

"You know who I am," Jesus murmured, climbing to his feet.

He peered around the snake's head, at the bulges in its throat, one of which still moved limply.

"Let the others go," he whispered.

He stepped back as the snake reluctantly lifted its head from the ground. Onlookers stepped back nervously as the upper part of the snake's body began to convulse again. Then it leaned forward, vomiting five human bodies out onto the road.

The serpent rested its head back on the ground, looking somewhat reproachfully at Jesus. Jesus smiled and put his hand up against its nose.

"Well," he sighed, "I guess I can't let them kill you now."

"Go back to what you were," he whispered. "Be what my Father made you to be."

And suddenly the snake began to shrink. Its giant coils slithered over chunks of broken cement as they retracted toward its head, growing thinner all the while. Soon it was no longer a gigantic monster that lay in front of Jesus, but a harmless little black snake, hissing and coiling at his feet.

Jesus picked up the snake and walked over to Malpanta Rachel, who was standing nearby, attempting to reattach her lower jaw.

"Looks like the effect wore off," Jesus said. "Try using a smaller dose next time."

"Uh. Yeah," Rachel replied, as Jesus hung the snake over her shoulder.

Jesus turned back to the spot where the snake had disgorged its victims. The Student Council members were still alive and beginning to stir. Judas was already sitting up in his damp clothes, staring around in confusion. He looked up as Jesus approached.

"What happened?" asked Judas.

"It's over," Jesus replied. "The snake spat you up."

"Where is it?"

Jesus pointed at the small black snake that Rachel was holding.

"… Oh."

"Need a hand?" Jesus asked, holding out his own.

Judas hesitated for a moment, then let Jesus help him to stand. He had just made it to his feet when he collapsed forward, sobbing.

"I'm sorry, Jesus! I'll tell the principal everything! I'm so sorry!"

"It's alright," Jesus said as he held Judas up. "I forgive you."

"This will never happen again!" Judas said firmly as he stepped back. "I promise!"

Jesus smiled. "Don't worry, Judas. I trust y—"

"Jesus!" Mary exclaimed, nearly knocking Jesus to the ground as she ran over to hug him.

Twenty minutes later, the paramedics arrived to inspect the five students who had seen the inside of the snake. Martha walked over to Jesus as he watched the ambulance pull up.

"Jesus?" Martha whispered.

"Hm?"

"You're the one who made that snake go back to normal, aren't you?"

"Well, you apparently think I am," Jesus said, as he watched the paramedics load Dinah, who had broken a rib, into the ambulance.

"Thank you for that incredibly evasive answer," Martha muttered. "But seriously," she said. "... What are you?"

Jesus turned to Martha and smiled. "Well, Martha, I'm…

"…I'm hungry," he said, rubbing his stomach.

He turned to Mary and cupped a hand to his mouth. "Hey, Mary, wanna go get some garlic fries?"

"Garlic fries?" Mary exclaimed. "Absolutely!"

"Damn it, Jesus!" Martha shouted, as she followed Jesus and Mary down the road. "This isn't over yet!"

* * *

><p>"It's not fair," the centurion whimpered, as the <em>Aeneas<em> flew back to the military base in Syria. "I wanted to try the new missiles."

"Don't worry, Titus," the pilot said, patting him on the shoulder. "There's always next time."

THE END


End file.
